


losing to win

by sevenzeroseven



Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: LMAO, M/M, ep4 throwbackkkkk, nothing happens they're just being cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 06:43:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8194139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenzeroseven/pseuds/sevenzeroseven
Summary: “Guy was practically groping you,” he huffs. AKA Nero gets beat up for defending Angelo's honor, and Angelo thinks he's an idiot.





	

**Author's Note:**

> THROWBACK TO EP4 WHEN EVERYTHING WAS GOOD AND GAY :3c consider this a shoddy attempt at a canon addendum lmao

“You’re an idiot.”

Angelo goes about the small general store unfazed, eyes focused on scanning the shelves rather than the pathetic man-child tagging along behind him like a kicked puppy. He’d expected more out of the next Don, more out of an accomplice in his family’s murder. To say the least, he’s disappointed. (And maybe, possibly, just the slightest bit endeared.)

Nero puffs out his chest at the casual insult, but he can only look so intimidating when he has two twisted, bloodied pieces of tissue shoved up both nostrils. The bleeding wouldn’t have stopped otherwise. Regardless, he’s still tracking blood around the place. Angelo almost feels bad for the bewildered shopkeeper following their every move. Another drop of blood hits the floor, and Nero wipes away the trail from his cut lip with the wrist of his right hand.

“Guy was practically groping you,” he huffs.

“I had it under control.” Angelo pauses, fingers ghosting across a line of canned goods. He can see Nero’s half-scowl, half-pout from the corner of his eye. He regrets volunteering to babysit.

Angelo expects Nero to make a snappy comeback, but there’s a lengthy pause instead. Good. Maybe he’ll give up and focus on that nosebleed or, hell, give Angelo some distance. The man suddenly became overbearing as soon as they left that speakeasy with Nero sporting arguably worse wounds than his opponent. They’re supposed to be on the run. This is the exact opposite of lying low. Angelo is still annoyed, and it probably shows even in his stoic expression.

He’s almost forgotten the line of conversation by the time Nero finally pipes up again.

“Didn’t know you swung that way.”

“What way,” Angelo immediately retorts and still refuses to meet Nero’s gaze. It’s his version of the cold shoulder, he supposes. He walks another few steps, turns, and finds what he’s looking for.

“Oi, oi!” Nero’s hand stops his from reaching the stacked pile of pineapple goods. Angelo meets the other’s eyes at last, and he can’t help the slightly challenging edge in his glare. 

“Get something else for a change, will you?”

Nero looks ridiculous. His hair is disheveled, ugly bruise blooming over his jaw and cheek. Blood streaks across his skin; there’s a developing black eye on the left half of his face, and both pieces of tissue are quite red and soggy by now. Rather than arguing, Angelo just tsks and frowns. He shakes off Nero’s grip irritably and reorients toward the beans.

“You know, _that_ way.” Nero shoves a hand in his pocket and rocks back on his heels. “Not that there’s anything wrong with it,” he quickly adds.

‘That way?’ God, he really is dealing with a child.

“I don’t swing any way,” Angelo responds dully, hoping to cut their conversation there. He even moves away physically, rounds this aisle into the next, but Nero persists. In fact, his curiosity is piqued. His brow rises, and he stops even closer to Angelo if that’s possible.

“What do you mean you don’t swing any way?”

Angelo looks over the canned proteins, sardines and the like, and only vaguely registers the question, but it’s clear Nero is not going to let this go. So he decides to change tactics. He decides to be blunt. 

“I didn’t think the next Don Vanetti would be so interested in other’s love affairs,” he deadpans. 

He skims over the selection. Angelo has always survived off primarily sweets. After that night, he didn’t have a mother to berate him either way. Candies, syrup, pineapple… It probably contributed to his thin frame. He chances a glance at Nero when the other is trying to dig another napkin out of his pocket. It’s _him_ who complains about the lack of meat. 

Angelo decides to grab a few tins.

“So, what, does that mean you’ve never been with a woman before?”

“And you have?” Angelo says it offhandedly, but Nero’s reaction genuinely surprises him. Instead of some witty, stupid comeback or insistence otherwise, he stops. _Finally_ , Angelo gets more than a few steps away.

“Well—”

“Ha.” Angelo says the word; he doesn’t actually laugh. He’s looking at Nero and smirking. That’s funny. That’s _hilarious_ , actually, but it’s still not funny enough to make him laugh. His emotions are too stunted for that. “That’s funny. You have no right to talk then,” he says simply, almost triumphantly, like he’s won an argument.

Nero huffs and puffs out his chest again. Angelo discreetly rolls his eyes and readjusts his grip on their purchases. 

“Father’s always said women are like a poison. Got to find a slow-acting one before you settle down.” Nero snickers. “Of course, Uncle Ganzo’s always thought otherwise, but.” Nero shrugs. “Old man wouldn’t stand for me playing around with girls.”

“And yet you still insist on going to those establishments…” Angelo hums, clearly doubtful of Nero’s sincerity, and is almost surprised a second time when he sees a flash of something like offense across the other’s expression. But it quickly lightens into another crooked grin which ends in a wince.

“Don’t hand me your bloody napkins,” Angelo snaps as soon as Nero is switching out his nose plug.

Nero sulks, unspoken ‘I know, I know’ hanging between them as Angelo approaches the register. 

“I mean,” Nero starts and stops and starts again as he tilts his head back and loudly sniffs to check for blood flow. “We’re around men all the time! Got to have a little variety in life, you know?”

Angelo tilts his head in acknowledgement at the shopkeeper who’s still staring at Nero and probably has some idea what kind of work they’re involved in. Angelo dumps all the contents onto the table and waits for the other to give him the financial verdict. They don’t have a lot of money left. He’ll have to pickpocket someone again.

“I have no interest in being with another person,” Angelo mutters, unprompted, and surprises himself with the candid admission. That’s right. He only wants one thing. Malice leaks into his countenance momentarily, and he coughs into his shoulder to avoid eye contact. 

“Huh, why’s that?”

The vendor finishes tallying the items. Angelo fishes their wallet out of his pocket—because the Don-to-be can’t be trusted—and starts counting out the change. Angelo shrugs. “I gain no satisfaction from it.”

“A real lone wolf, huh?”

Angelo hadn’t really thought about it that way. The words leave his mouth before he can reconsider. “Not by choice.” The spite is almost unmistakable. Shit. A slip of the tongue. He can see confusion briefly knitting Nero’s eyebrows, but he doesn’t let the man think further on it. He doubts Nero really has the capacity, anyway, but he’ll wheedle him about it if he gets the chance.

“Let’s go,” he says abruptly as soon as all the cans are in their paper bag and the dredges of their money are returned to the folds of his jacket.

“Well, not anymore.” As soon as he steps out onto the sidewalk, Nero slings an arm across Angelo’s shoulder, causing him to stumble and trip into the other. The bag and its contents rustle in his grip. It makes Angelo’s insides curl into themselves and, at the same time, ignites an odd warmth in the pit of his stomach. “The family wouldn’t mind having you.”

Angelo feels his throat constrict slightly even if this is all according to plan. “Get in the car,” he says instead.

“Yeah, yeah.” Nero coolly waves off the command and separates. Angelo doesn’t relax until Nero is on the other side of the vehicle. “I’m driving this time.”

Angelo doesn’t say anything, but there’s a sort of silent grousing in the following moment. The conversation doesn’t start again until the town is a good few miles behind them.

Nero is the one who breaks the quiet. “Maybe all you really need is just a good woman.”

Angelo sighs. He turns his head to lean into his palm against the window, and once again, he looks bored like a student being chided by his teacher. Nero has never been one for _nagging_ , and he’s not sure why he’s even bothering. Before he can rectify his previous statement, Angelo finally shifts. Their gazes connect for a fraction of a second. Nero still looks ridiculous, but at least his nostrils are clear.

“You put a lot of stock in human lives, don’t you?”

Nero thinks he hears a sliver of sarcasm in the words, but his brain isn’t hard-wired to pick up on Angelo’s brand of snide disdain. (He wouldn’t understand the reason for it, after all.) He only answers earnestly, big grin splitting his bruised mug. 

“Ah,” Nero accedes and nods. “That’s all we have at the end of the day, after all.”

“Hmm.” Angelo doesn’t say anything beyond that, and he’s glad when the topic is not revisited again. There’s nothing anyone can say at this point that will change his mind, but occasionally, he wonders.

**Author's Note:**

> i need 2 stop it is time 2 stop lmaoooo im sorry nothing happened i just wanted to write the cute babies interacting and angelo being simultaneously amused/annoyed lolol i like the idea of ace!angelo :3c doesn't have to be interpreted that way tho bc i mostly wrote it to mean he's dead inside lololol my sweet summer child come 2 me


End file.
